Halloween Countdown
by Cherilynn.L'Ombre
Summary: Every night in october one more person goes missing, The BAU is called in to find the UnSub before Halloween, when all the victims will be murdered.  The countdown begins and the team is put to the test
1. Chapter 1

Hello! Thank you for deciding to read my first Criminal Minds (which I do not own) fanfiction. I did my best to format the story like an episode hopefully that makes sense. Please review and let me know that the story is worth continuing. Also, if you disagree with my rating please tell me, I'm knew at the and still figuring things out. Thanks again for your reviews. And just so you know, the town this is set in is fictional, but very much based on my own hometown. Thanks *C.E.L

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><p>Halloween Countdown<p>

**Brooksville, Ohio October 5 12:06 a.m.**

Jack Reagan hauls himself reluctantly out of bed, groaning as he does. Three times, the doorbell rang and while it was most likely teenagers pulling a prank Jack thought it merited some investigation. Moving quietly down the hall, Jack first checked his daughter's room. It would be just like Cassie to sneak out, only to prank her own house.

Cassie was half awake when he peered through her open door, the noise of the doorbell being just enough to rouse her, but not enough to pull her fully into consciousness. "I love you" he whispered closing the door softly.

The house was dark and silent, except for the occasional creak of the wooden floors. Peering out a front window, Jack saw nothing out of the ordinary on the empty street outside. Just to be sure he opened the front door and stuck his head and shoulders into the cool October night. The street was as silent as a suburban neighborhood should be at midnight. Just as he is closing the door, a sharp crack of a twig breaking underfoot disrupts the still night air.

Suspicious, Jack steps out onto the small front porch, scanning the yard for movement. He is too shocked to scream when he is seized from behind and a thick cloth bag is pulled over his head. A hand clamps over his mouth and he loses his chance.

Upstairs, Cassie sits up suddenly, muscles tense. She is aware that something is very wrong. Outside a car door closes with a thud and the noise of the engine fades away moments later. "Dad?" There is no answer.

**Quantico, Virginia BAU headquarters October 5 2:00**

JJ, Hotch, Morgan, Prentiss and Rossi were waiting in the briefing room. Reid had gone for coffee fifteen minutes ago and had yet to return. Hotch was about to instruct that JJ begin without him when he burst through the door, nearly spilling his coffee all over himself. "Sorry I'm late. What did I miss?" He asked slightly breathlessly.

"Nothing, we waited for you. Go ahead JJ." Hotch said.

"Jack Reagan, age thirty-four is the most recent of five kidnappings to take place in Brooksville, Ohio." JJ began, displaying a picture of an average-looking man in his mid-thirties. "He was taken at around midnight last night from just outside his home. The others;" Here JJ brought up the pictures of two men and two women, all varying in race and age, "were taken at similar times starting at midnight on the first of the month. One person has been taken each day of October. Our first victim, Sean Garret, is forty-two and lives with his mother who reported him missing." The man JJ was talking about was pale with a pointed face and thinning black hair. "She says that she heard the doorbell ring three times, and told him to see what was going on. He never came back. The second victim," Now they were looking at an ethnic looking woman in her late twenties or early thirties. "Natalie Franklin, is a newlywed, her husband was sick and had taken cough medicine to help him sleep. He woke up at around one-thirty and she was gone." The members of the BAU sighed a little; the husband would be feeling horribly guilty, thinking that had he been awake, she would not have been taken. "The others are a forty-three year old black male and a twenty-four year old white female. One was reported missing by his wife and the other by her housemate. All of them have said the same thing; the doorbell rang three times and they went to see what was going on. One more thing," The team waited to see what else there could be about this unusual string of kidnappings. "These notes were found on the door." JJ handed the team copies of the notes in order of the kidnappings.

_The first sun rises and the first is gone_

_One more day and another will be the same_

_Taken in the dark of night_

_Now they wait for what shall come_

_In the dark they're standing by_

_Waiting for the newest 'friend'_

_You can't see me you don't know me_

_But you will not forget my name_

_The final day is drawing close_

_They'll come with me when I go_

Reid looked over the poem again, although he already had it committed to memory. "Our UnSub knows very little about poetry, I'd say the format is most likely for dramatic effect."

"So what is he trying to say?" Prentiss asked looking at the page as if it would give an answer it had previously hidden.

"Our UnSub wants us to know that we're working on a time limit. The last note, the one that was on Reagan's door, is telling us that when the time runs out, he'll kill them all and then himself." Hotch said his mouth set in a grim line. "Everyone, get ready to go, we take off in half an hour." One by one the BAU filed out of the briefing room, leaving Reid staring at the images of the victims. There was no specific age or race, the victims were random. Most of them were male, but that could be put down to the fact that it would most likely be a man that went to see why the doorbell had been rung in the middle of the night. Sighing, Reid grabbed his bag and went to get his belongings together before takeoff.

()()()

"_You have to learn the rules of the game. And then you have to play better than anyone else."_

-Dianne Feinstein

On the jet the team continued their earlier conversation about the UnSub. "The victims are random, but he selected them beforehand. Undoubtedly he stalks them; he wants to be comfortable with what he's doing." Reid said trailing off as he thought of what else they knew.

Rossi narrows his eyes in thought, "He wants his crimes to be noticed, he craves the attention. He is self centered and arrogant."

"His poem is almost taunting us; he thinks we can't catch him." Prentiss adds. She hates that he's mocking them and it serves to steel her resolve about finding this guy.

"Oh, we can catch him, and we will." Morgan says echoing her thoughts. The team continues speculating about the UnSub but the conversation runs in circles. Eventually, JJ informs them that they are about to land and Hotch begins assigning jobs.

"First, we all go to the most recent crime scene. JJ tell the chief of police to meet us there. After that, Rossi and I will go to the precinct to get set up. Morgan, you and Reid are going to the first victim's house to speak with the mother. Prentiss, I want you to talk to neighbors while we're at the crime scene. This is a small town, if something was weird about any of our victims the neighbors will know." Hotch finished with a curt nod and began reviewing the case file, hoping something they had missed would strike him. Nothing did, but he remained lost in his thoughts until the jolt of the plane landing shook him from his reverie.

Outside the victim's house was a madhouse of police, reporters, and curious bystanders. The team spotted the chief of police almost immediately; he was the one the younger officers kept talking to then hurrying off with more purpose. "Hello, you must be Captain Wilton, I'm Agent Jennifer Jerrau. We spoke on the phone. These are Special Agents Hotchner, Rossi, Morgan, Prentiss, and Reid." Everyone waved or nodded to acknowledge the introduction, and JJ moved on. "This is the house or most recent victim lived in, correct?" She asked gesturing to it.

"It is indeed, man's name is Jack Reagan, he and I were poker buddies." Wilton sighed then moved on. "His daughter and ex-wife are inside, if you want to talk to them." Hotch nodded and motioned that Morgan and Reid should go inside to question them.

The house was averagely sized and decorated in a casual, inexpensive way. It looked as though it hadn't had a thorough cleaning in a while, but that some effort was made towards neatness. A woman in her early thirties was sitting on a couch next to a visibly distraught teenage girl. "Hello, I'm Agent Morgan; I'm with the FBI's Behavioral Analysis Unit. If you don't mind I'd appreciate it if you could answer a few questions." Morgan said.

The woman glared at him, "My daughter will not answer any more questions today. I believe she has been through enough." He voice was clipped and frigidly polite.

"Ma'am, I understand that this is difficult, but any information we can get will help us find whoever kidnapped your ex-husband." Morgan tried to persuade her.

The teenager seemed to pull herself together and spoke up before her mother. "I want to talk to them, Mom. They say they can find Dad, and I want to help." Looking displeased, the mother pursed her lips and sat back.

"Cassie, I understand that you were here when your father was taken, is that true?" Morgan began.

"Yeah, I was pretending to be asleep, because my friends wanted to sneak out." Cassie's eyes widened and she glanced fearfully at her mother, whose lips were now pressed together even more tightly. Squirming slightly in her seat, Cassie continued. "I heard the doorbell ring three times, and I hoped my friends weren't stupid enough to do that. My dad came to check on me," Here Cassie's voice got caught in her throat as she choked back the coming sobs. "He told me he loved me, even though he probably didn't know I was awake." Her breath was coming is quick gasps now, but she clearly wanted to get the story out. "A minute or two later, I heard a car driving away. I was too scared to go downstairs and see what happened, so I stayed in my room. I called my mom in the morning, then I called the police." Cassie continued to cry silently, and knowing that she had said all she had to say, Reid and Morgan stood up to leave. They were surprised to find that the former Mrs. Reagan had followed them, instead of staying to comfort her daughter.

"I am trying to convince my daughter that it is best that she leave this town, because of all the tragic memories of her father's passing, but she refuses. She is citing school obligations and friends. But I think it's best if were to move to Cleveland with me, you have been dealing with these situations for a while, what would you suggest?" She asked, her critical eyes on them. Morgan was at a loss for words, but Reid of course was not.

"Mr. Reagan's kidnapping is most likely related to four other kidnappings in the area, thus far, we have no reason to believe that any of the victims are dead. In fact, the working profile we have now makes it exceedingly unlikely that Mr. Reagan is dead." Reid stated oblivious to Ms. Reagan's glares and Cassie's arrival in the doorway.

"You mean my dad isn't dead?" Cassie said hopefully. "My mom said that he had probably been killed and I should assume the worst, but you're saying that he might not be? That he's alive?" Cassie ran forward and hugged Reid before he could stop her. She let go quickly, but didn't seem nearly as embarrassed as he was.

Grabbing his arm, Morgan began dragging Reid back to the van thanking Ms. Reagan for her time.

Meanwhile the others were also gathering information. Taking Reid and Morgan's earlier assignment, Prentiss and Rossi went to the home of the first victim, Sean Garret. Mrs. Garret, the victim's mother, who he lived with, was mostly unhelpful. She did not seem overly concerned about her son's welfare, but seemed to enjoy the company the agents provided and answered their questions as best she could.

When they arrived at the police station, they were greeted by Captain Wilton and the detective who had been investigating this case before the BAU came in. He looked more relieved than anything at what many detectives had called an intrusion. He introduced himself as Detective Shriver and proceeded to give them a brief rundown of what he knew. After he excused himself to make a few phone calls the team set to work on the profile. Everybody knew it would be a long process.

**A Mysterious Large Room, Unknown Location October 5 late evening**

Jack Reagan was very confused at first, when he woke up. He was in a large, dimly lit room, and his hands were tied behind his back. There were other people in the room with him, but they were across from him, leaning on different walls. He sighed when he had confirmed that none of them were Cassie. The only way this ordeal could be worse was if Cassie got dragged into it.

A metal door on the far side of the room creaked open, its loud shriek echoing off the walls. A figure entered the room. He approaches Jack, crouching down in front of him. "Welcome to the club, Mr. Reagan," The man says with a mirthful laugh, "You're going to help me celebrate my favorite holiday and, of course, help me make all those _people_ finally see me!" He spat out his word, fury distorting them and making it almost intelligible. The man replaced his evil sneer, and said, "Yes, Mr. Reagan, once I have the others, I'll end everything and we'll see who is invisible!" He pulled a blindfold over Reagan's eyes and left the room, his cackling laugh reverberating off the high ceiling. Jack was left trying to wrap his mind around the fact that he was sitting in the room that he would die in.


	2. Chapter 2

Hey guys, I've been really disappointed in the lack of reviews. I know you're reading this based on traffic stats but for all I know you think it's awful. Shout out to who has been very supportive through all my writing drama. If you don't like this let me know because I have three other casefic ideas so if this one is bad i'd rather save myself the time and just start one of those. Let me know. *C.E.L

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><p><strong>Brooksville, Ohio Police Station October 6, 5:00 a.m <strong>

Mornings for the BAU were rarely a good time. This morning was no better than most and in fact, it might be worse. The team had been working on the profile, trying to make it ready to be presented today, all night. At around three a.m. they had all fallen asleep at the conference table they were working at. Two hours later, they had been woken by Hotch's phone screaming for attention. "Hotchner," Hotch's response gave no indication that he had woken up seconds before from a veritable nap with his head on a shabby wooden table. After a moment of nodding Hotch closed his phone with a snap. "Everyone, there's been another kidnapping, Reid stay here and finalize the profile, everybody else, we're going to the crime scene." Doggedly everybody stood up and prepared for a day that had started very badly.

()()()

Reid stared at what they had of the profile; the poem still bothered him a little. The UnSub was clearly meticulous enough to have planned out his method of kidnapping and selected victims that would be reported missing quickly, but that weren't very difficult to take, and yet he put so little effort into his notes. _Most UnSubs who bother with poetic notes take time and make sure they're perfect, but these are just simple couplets that are obvious in their meaning. Why not make an effort? _Reid wondered to himself. It hit him moments later, the UnSub was doing what he thought was the dramatic thing, the thing that would give him some sort of status. That gave them a hint as to the type of job the UnSub might have/ have had. Reid called Garcia.

"Expert in all concerning knowledge, what do you wish to know?" Garcia said using one of her signature greetings.

"Garcia, what are the main jobs for the town, from what I can tell the UnSub thinks the town and its people have wronged him or ignored him. I think he most likely works or worked in a position that benefited the town but wasn't really recognized, this doesn't have to be an official job, it could be just an important business." Feeling like he might've moved the case forward a little Reid's spirits lifted some.

"Well, handsome, most people who live here either work at Lowell Publishing or Lowell Printing. Both were started by the same guy, the publishing company is all office work and Lowell Printing is a factory that actually prints the Lowell books, magazines, and periodicals. From what I can tell this creates a pretty big gap between the educated and the uneducated. Those that went to college work at the business end of things, and those that didn't work in the factory." Garcia rattled off the information she was getting off her computer, waiting for her next task.

"How many of our victims worked in either the Publishing or the Printing?" Reid asked.

"Let's see, Sean Garret went to a community college for a year, then dropped out and works in an overseeing position at the factory. The second victim works for the publishing company, she reviews the work that might get published. Reagan is a teacher and the other two victims have unrelated jobs, one owns a car dealership and the other helps run a therapy center for women who were involved in domestic violence. Wow, no significant connections for any of our vics. Anything else you need?"

"Not right now, thanks Garcia." Reid snapped his phone shut and added the new information to the board.

()()()

At the newest victim's home, the team looked around for anything unusual. Daniel Franklin's house was modest, but neat. His wife was hysterical and it was obvious they weren't going to get any useful information from her at this time, so they looked for something- anything- that could help them. As with the other victims a poem was left on the front door.

_One day closer to all hallows eve_

_And yet you do not have a guess_

The poem was as badly written as the others, but the message was clear. Hotch took out his phone and called Reid. "Reid, we have a date. The UnSub intends to kill all his hostages on 'all hallows eve' mean anything to you? Not now, Reid, I have a crime scene to go over. Yes, tell me when we get back. Good work, the job lead is a good break through. Bye." Hotch hung up on Reid and turned back to Morgan and the others. "As it so happens, Reid does know a thing or two about 'all hallows eve'; so we have something to work with. I'm going to talk with the wife; I think she's pulled herself together enough." Morgan didn't miss the sarcasm in Hotch's comment about Reid, and smiled a little. Hotch almost never smiled, but when he made jokes, randomly and out of left field, they were very funny.

The case had Morgan feeling very off. The kidnapper acted every night, taking a single person from their home; personally he would have taken a different approach to the investigation. If he were in charge, he would focus on the UnSub's list of victims and potential victims. Morgan wasn't comfortable with the idea of letting more people get kidnapped while they tried to catch whoever was doing this. As usual, Morgan was more inclined towards immediate action than waiting and watching. Morgan kept telling himself to stop thoughts like that, once he had led the team, and everyone- himself included- had been glad when Hotch returned. Now it felt like every time Hotch chose to do something differently then he would, Morgan wished he was leader. He told himself it was his pride speaking, but still, he couldn't help but wish his opinion was asked for just a little more.

Morgan scanned the lawn, trying to think like the UnSub. If he wanted to kidnap someone in the middle of the night, without breaking and entering, how would he do it? He had to make the victim come to the door. He rang the doorbell three times, and then he waited. Morgan glanced up at the house. There was a large window that overlooked the front yard; any logical person would look through that before opening the door. Morgan walked into the house and over to the window, which was in the kitchen. The bush next to the front porch was an optimal place to hide; no one could be seen through the window, but when a person stepped out the door, they were an easy target. "Prentiss, I think that bush is where the UnSub hid, waiting for his victim to come out of the house."

"Makes sense, but he didn't leave any traces, and you can't pull fingerprints off a bush, at least not in real life." Prentiss said with sarcasm tingeing her words.

Their discussion was interrupted by Rossi coming over. "Reid has enough of a profile to present; we're going back to the precinct. Let's go." Piling into the van, they headed back to where Reid was waiting for them.

Rossi studied the faces of the officers in front of him. They were almost all young men, and Rossi was glad they weren't pursuing an officer in this case. Many of the killers he hunted were profiled as most likely holding an official position, he liked the familial feeling that surrounded these officers and really didn't want one of them to be a suicidal, murderous killer.

The profile Reid had finalized while they were looking at the crime scene was good. Or, as good as any profile could be, considering the subject matter. This was the type of case where a few things were very important: first, fast action on the part of the police department. They had been called in a little later than Rossi would have liked but not horribly so. Second, controlled media, JJ was very good at her job and knew how to warn the public without sending them into a panic. Third, noticing patterns so that when they change, it's immediately noticeable. With the group gathered the team began the presentation.

"Our UnSub is most likely a white male in his early thirties to late forties." Hotch began "He desperately craves attention."

Reid took over "He most likely believes that the town itself somehow wronged him. So instead of enacting his revenge on a specific type of person, he enacts it on average people. Because of the smoothness of the kidnappings, we can assume the UnSub has a list of victims, in a specific order. He will not intentionally deviate from that list."

Now Rossi took his turn in the presentation, "The UnSub is not working with another person, as he believes that no one else is good enough for this work, also, he's anti social, no one would want to help him. He is organized and likes to make plans; he has back-up plans for anything we do, so we need to be careful. For the time being we have decided to hold a press conference to warn people not to answer their doors after dark under any circumstances. We want to see if the UnSub's anger will be enough to bring him into the open. No matter what his plan B is, it will give us a lot of information about him, enough to identify him, we think." Rossi concluded.

()()()

An hour later, all the local media, a state news network, and several curious bystanders were gathered in front of the police department waiting for JJ to begin. "We have evidence that the recent kidnappings are all related and that the same man will strike again tonight, we advise the people of this town not to answer their doors after dark. No matter what, do not try to go to the door and we advise that you stay in your houses and do not go outside. If you take these precautions, there is no reason to believe that you won't be safe. I will not be taking questions at this time. Thank you." Amid the shouted questions of the reporters, JJ stepped off the podium and went back over to where the rest of the team was standing. "Do you think that'll stop him?" JJ asked.

"Actually, it's highly unlikely that that will stop the UnSub. Based on what he wrote in the poems, he's very driven towards his goal. He'll react strongly to not being able to get his victims, but it could just result in his crimes evolving into murder." Reid said, oblivious to the glares of his teammates. When he stopped talking and looked at them, he could see their disapproval. "Sorry." He said. Ignoring him, the team went back inside to continue the profile.

Once inside, Morgan called Garcia. "Hey Babygirl, what've you got on the layoffs from the factory and company in the past year or so?" He asked his spirits lifting some from her sunny personality.

"Well, about thirty-five people were laid off in the last year from the company, and twenty-six from the factory. Of those, forty-two were male. Is that all you need?" She said.

"That's it for now, but I'll call you when I have another challenge." Morgan teased.

"Please do, and make it a good one this time. Bye" Morgan snapped the phone shut and his smile faded as Garcia's cheering effect wore off. He rejoined the others who were staring at the board with the victim's photos on it. Reid had his face ridiculously close to the board as if there was some hidden writing there that would tell them who the UnSub was. Though Morgan would never say it out loud, the habit reminded his of Gideon who had done the same thing.

"Any updates from Garcia?" Prentiss asked breaking his train of thought.

"Not really she faxed over the list of people who were recently laid off, but none of them had any priors or anything that would make them stand out. Man, I can't figure this guy out." That bothered the whole team as much as it bothered Morgan himself. It was usually Morgan's job to "become the UnSub" because he was good at it; so if he couldn't figure him out where did that leave them?

Hotch surveyed his team. Identical shadows under all of their eyes, matching his own. He knew they would work tirelessly until they caught the UnSub and returned the victims to their families, but he also knew that they were only human, and they would need to sleep eventually. "I think we've done all we can for today. Go back to the hotel, grab something to eat and get some sleep, there's nothing we can do until we have his reaction to our interference." For a moment he thought they would argue, but seemingly at the same time they all realized how tired they were and filed out of the room.

**Outside the Brooksville police Station 5:00 pm**

He watched furiously as the FBI agents left the building. They thought they had ruined his plans, and they had complicated them, but they were far from ruined. Now he could make more of a statement. Now he could make them see him. After all the years he had worked, hoping they would notice his success, only to be thrust backwards. Now they would see, now they would be forced to look. And the FBI would see too. He laughed a little as he drove away; glad that his message would be sent. He had plans to make, and things to do before midnight.


	3. Chapter 3

Hello again, finally. Sorry it took me so long to get this up, I was writing it and it started to go in a new direction, but I really like it so far. Thanks a ton to Spark17 and Pturney for your reviews you honestly made my day and i lok forward to hearing from you in the future. As always please read and review. *C.E.L

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><p><strong>2041 Westwood Ave. Brooksville, OH 3:30 a.m.<strong>

"Three am does not count as morning. Damn I should have known I wouldn't get any sleep, we never get any on cases." Morgan ranted while Prentiss merely grunted noncommittally in reply. Words were an unnecessary commodity this early in the morning. They were at another average looking house looking around for anything unusual, besides the fact that a woman had been kidnapped from her bed in the middle of the night and not a single person had heard or seen anything. The woman's husband was hysterical and questioning him now seemed cruel so they were only looking around the premises for any clues.

"So, I'm the UnSub,"

"Jeez, Morgan, why didn't you tell us? It would've made our lives a lot easier." Prentiss said snorting.

Morgan rolled his eyes and continued, "I would've had to make sure no one would hear or see me get in, so I wait until dark, when everyone is sleeping. He probably used a ladder that he took with him; yeah here are the marks from it." Morgan pointed out the scratches along the porch roof. "Right up there is the bedroom window. He climbs up, opens the window, maybe sedates the vic so she doesn't wake up. Then he carries her out. He's strong, but thin enough to make it through that window." Prentiss nodded.

"Yeah, he's also young enough that none of this is painful or extremely dangerous, maybe he's even done it before. He could have a history of burglary." Prentiss grabbed her cell phone to call Hotch with the updates while Morgan called Garcia.

"Hotch, yeah I this is our guy, he left another note. I'll bring it back with us. No, Sir, the husband is hysterical. We won't be able to get anything from him. Morgan's checking in with Garcia then we'll head back. Oh, okay, I'll let him know. Goodbye." Prentiss closed her phone and turned to a confused looking Morgan. "Hotch sent Garcia home for some sleep. She's still there. We can check in with her later." Morgan nodded and climbed into the SUV, waiting to start the engine until Prentiss was in the passenger seat. "The others are all waiting for us so we should get down there. Reid's going to fill us in on 'all hallows eve' and we're going to share the new information we got from the crime scene. Let's go." They drove back to the police headquarters in silence; both were too tired to think of anything conversational and both understood that the other felt the same way.

()()()

Reid was mentally editing what he would say about all hallows eve. He knew the team sometimes got annoyed with his pleonastic responses. He doubted this preparation would be much help; once he started talking, he had to use all his words before he stopped. He also knew that at three in the morning they would be a lot quicker to shut him up. To Reid, time made little difference; if he had enough coffee in his system three hours of sleep felt the same as ten.

Morgan and Prentiss walked in, looking tired and forlorn. The crime scene must not have had much in the way of evidence. He hoped that his analysis on the poem would be helpful, even if he was worried that he hadn't put in enough information. He was always worried about that though. He had so much knowledge that could be applied that he wondered if leaving it out was devaluing the profile. Pushing those thoughts from his overactive mind, he reviewed what he planned on saying.

Morgan pinned the newest poem to the board and sat down at the table, Prentiss joined him moments later. "Alright Reid, what do you know about all hallows eve?" Hotch said and the team's collective focus turned on Reid.

"All hallows eve is an earlier name for Halloween. Halloween was originally thought to be the one night in the year when the barriers between the natural and supernatural were the thinnest and the spirits of the dead can roam the earth. The UnSub may have a connection to Halloween from his past or he might have chosen it to increase the drama of his actions. Based on the poems he left at the crime scenes, all he really wants is recognition. The quality of the poem has increased with each kidnapping; apparently the UnSub is putting in more of an effort now that he knows he is being recognized for his actions. He obviously intends to kill himself after he murders the hostages. He probably came up with this plan as a way to make his suicide more important. This shows that he has no friends and no family that would be grieving for him." Reid finally allowed himself to look up. The team was looking at him, not with flabbergasted incredulity, like they usually were when he gave an explanation, but with speculative interest.

"Good work Reid. That helps to complete the profile. Also, the next part of the poem, does it follow the same pattern?" Hotch asked the question, apparently not noticing how pleased Reid was at receiving some of Hotch's rare praise.

"Uh, yeah it does,

"_This girl needs your help right now_

_But you know less than when you began"_

"It's taunting us, but for the first time, he mentions a specific victim. This one probably means more to him because she was harder to take. She was more of a victory than the others, who practically walked into his hands." Reid said examining the poem for any more hints it might contain.

"Morgan, Prentiss, go back to the crime scene at a more reasonable hour and talk to the victim's husband. He might remember something once he's pulled himself together. Reid, you and I are going to talk to the CEO of the publishing company. It's small enough that maybe our profile will remind her of someone." Hotch ordered with a curt nod. "For now, everyone get three more hours of sleep, or at least try." With a collective relieved sigh the team filed out, happy to sleep for a little longer.

()()()

"So, Mrs. Delaney were there any of your recently laid off employees that were more noticeably angry than the others? Did you receive any threats or complaints from any of them?" Hotch had skipped most of the pleasantries and got right to the point, and Mrs. Delaney had seemed slightly startled by his bluntness.

"No, everyone was understandably upset but no one was threatening us or more vocal than the rest. You don't think one of our employees could be responsible for this do you?" Mrs. Delaney asked nervously.

"Right now we're only trying to eliminate possible suspects," Hotch reassured her, "but we are entertaining the possibility that whoever is doing this is seeking revenge." The look of disbelief on the woman's face was plain.

"I'm sure that if someone working here was capable of something like this we'd have noticed before now." Mrs. Delaney suggested lamely.

"Actually, the man we're looking for would have been completely unnoticeable. His main complaint to the town is that you all failed to recognize him for his true value. The point is more that you _wouldn't _have noticed him." Reid said, pressing his lips together when he realized that the woman was even more confused by what he'd said.

"Mrs. Delaney, if anyone does come to mind, please call us." Hotch handed her a business card and walked out of the room, with Reid following at his heels.

()()()

Morgan and Prentiss did not go to the crime scene. They ended up going to the home of a man who had called the tip-line that JJ had set up who claimed that he knew who was orchestrating the kidnappings. "Mr. Landon? I'm Agent Morgan from the FBI. You called the number saying that you had information on the recent kidnappings." Morgan looked at a small man in his early fifties who seemed more of less indifferent to what Morgan had said.

"Yup, I did, and I do." He said and his slow speech aggravated Morgan who wanted this case to finally go somewhere. He was always wholly involved in the action cases, but slow cases like this bothered him with their lack of energy. Every case bothered him, and being able to take that frustration out on doors helped him cope. This case had not given him a chance to relieve his stress. "I heard, from my contacts in the police that he's fixated on Halloween. That when time runs out for you guys, right?" Morgan nodded. "I might have a list of people for you. See, I used to be an officer. Back about twenty-five or so years ago, there was a bunch of kidnappings on Halloween. Yeah, twenty-four children were kidnapped, all while trick-or-treating. Now, I know a lot of the times, these people's crimes are because of trauma that they sustained as children, and their crimes might have links to that. Is it possible that your guy is one of the victims of that case?" The old man asked.

Prentiss was surprised by the man's story and a little suspicious of how much was true. "It's very possible, but why haven't we heard anything about it? We've been here for days."

"You haven't heard about it because the mayor at the time, and every mayor since, has done his damndest to keep it hushed up. It makes the whole community look bad. Most of the kids didn't even get therapy for it. And with what they saw- well, let's just say they should've." The man was clearly angry at the whole affair having been ignored by the community officials for so long even now, when it could lead them to saving all these people.

"What did they see?" Morgan asked, "Knowing this could help us understand him a little more, and help us find him."

"When we arrived on scene, we burst into this massive warehouse and we saw that he was holding a gun. All the kids were huddled against a wall and he had the gun pointed at them. We ordered him to drop the gun, and we thought he was going to, but at the last second he turned it on himself. He shot himself right in front of all those kids and I doubt they came away from it without a scratch." He sighed sadly. "I still have the lists of those kids' names." He handed them a list of names that had been printed on a piece of paper many years ago. "Bring this guy in, please, and if you can, try to give the other victims some justice, don't let the old case be forgotten."

()()()

JJ was waiting for the others when they arrived. They all filed back into the conference room to catch up with the newly gained knowledge. JJ had gone to the recent crime scene and spoken with the victim's husband. He mentioned that she had just been to the doctor and announced that she was pregnant that afternoon. JJ always felt a slight connection to victim's families, she knew it was unprofessional to react this way, but she felt that someone on the team should. The families needed someone to relate to, someone who they would feel comfortable talking to, and the others often came off a little harsh. This case was no different, the thought of that man sitting at home wondering if both his wife and unborn child would make it home made JJ feel deeply sad and a little useless, as there wasn't much she could do to help at this point.

The news that Morgan and Prentiss had was by far the most interesting and relevant. The list of names was immediately faxed to Garcia to look over and find out if any of them fit the profile. The team felt as though a bad morning was finally looking up a little bit.

**A Large Warehouse Location Unknown 10:00 am **

He surveyed the room and found it appropriately full of miserable people. He hadn't taken enough of them yet, but he was proud of his most recent victim. She had been difficult to take, and she was the most important of the people on his list. She was the one that he had a real connection with. She was feeling the familiar fear of being taken by a stranger to an alien location. He had felt the same fear, many years ago, but now, finally, he would be heard and he would be remembered. He went to decide the best way to take the next person on his list. Another night would go by and those useless agents were still floundering for a suspect. He laughed quietly at their incompetence. It was the first time in months. For a brief moment he wished he could see the aftermath of his actions in this town. He hoped it would tear the place to shreds. He knew of course that he couldn't be there for the results. The entire point was that he wouldn't be, and everyone in town would be left wishing they had paid more attention, if they had perhaps the people in this room wouldn't have to die. He sighed and left his post to check his gun. He liked staring at his captives, watching their fear, but he had too much work to do to just sit around.


End file.
